


Maybe Tomorrow

by Anonymous



Series: 30 Days of Writing [19]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Affection, Angst, Canon Era, Coping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Established Relationship, Guilt, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Present Tense, Self-Doubt, tagging to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 10:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13432455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After the rally, Spot tries to deal with things on his own





	Maybe Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Day #19: Forgive

Spot still feels the stain of the rally on his hands. 

Helping bloody, broken children, fighting through tearing hands, the night scars Spot’s mind. He brought his newsies into this. Jack brought him into this. His fingers rub together and there is a layer over them filled with grit. 

He closes his eyes when the haunting screams echo in his mind, his breaths quickening. Unable to take any more, Spot sheds most of his clothes before diving into the harbor, the water overtaking his senses. 

Staying under longer than he should, Spot tries to ignore the burn in his lungs until he grasps for the surface. In a moment of panic, he grabs onto a nearby pole of the dock, gulping in air. A raspy breath leaves him and he scolds himself for being selfish, forgetting his duties. 

He steadies his breathing as he clings to the soaken wood, his thoughts turning as dark as the water before he forces himself back up onto the dock. The setting sun brings with it a cool air and he shivers, yet doesn’t rush to put on his clothes.

He’s no longer alone and he holds onto himself as he is stared down. 

“What do you want?” Spot bites. 

While it’s the one person he can pour his heart to, Spot doesn’t want to give in and he takes to looking at his feet as he shakes. There are no words, just the creak of the dock, a blanket falling on Spot’s shoulders. He gingerly takes one side as the other is held onto tightly, a hand rubbing his arm. 

“None of it’s your fault, you know,” Race’s thumb traces along Spot’s knuckles. “We didn’t know they was coming. And besides, your newsies came with you. Willingly.”

Spot refuses to listen to Race’s truths. Maybe the whole strike could’ve been forgotten if Brooklyn never joined. Maybe some of his newsies wouldn’t have to deal with the injuries and heavy memories they have now.

Inhaling, Spot clears his mind, a response far from his lips. Brooklyn had to join. It wasn’t just about them. Things were getting tougher and it was time to stop rolling with the punches. 

The responsibility on Spot’s shoulders presses down, the water sounding inviting yet again despite how cold he is. 

“They hurt some of the younger ones real bad, Race,” Spot whispers. He hates the fragility of his voice, the way Race allows him to be vulnerable. “I don’t want that again.”

Race nods, his own face painted in worry. “I can’t promise you anything, Spot. We just...gotta keep trying. Things’ll get better.”

“And if they don’t?” Spot can’t help gritting out. 

“Then, they don’t,” Race shrugs with simplicity. “But we’re still here. Trying. Fighting. That’s what they’ll remember us for.”

The corners of Spot’s mouth twitch at the thought of anyone remembering him when he’s older, if he ever makes it to older, and he sighs, allowing himself this one time of resting his forehead on Race’s shoulder out in the open. 

“Yeah. Okay.”

Race chuckles at this, a hand wrapping around the back of Spot’s neck, a small kiss placed on the top of his head. Spot wants to enjoy this forever, but Race has other things in mind, leading Spot back to his discarded clothes on the dock. Drying himself off as best he can, Spot throws his clothes back on and walks with Race back towards the lodging house. 

He thinks to ask Race to stay, but Manhattan calls. Just before they reach the building, Spot pulls Race into an alley, hiding them behind some stray crates before connecting their lips in a soft kiss. 

He needs Race. He needs Race so much it hurts and Spot sighs into the kiss as Race holds onto his arms. When they pull apart, Spot lets his hands trail, his tumultuous mind put at ease for a few precious moments. Their fingers trace patterns on each other’s skin and Race, in his usual form of goodbye, grabs Spot’s face, tugging him into one final kiss.

When Race goes, Spot is left with a lightness in his heart, small doubts fading in his mind. Once Spot enters the lodging house, he heads up to where the injured children are and upon seeing their bright smiles, Spot truly believes there are some things in life worth fighting for.

**Author's Note:**

> not sure if i really hit the prompt but
> 
> [Chumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


End file.
